


Angelfish

by taemun



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ, JYJ (Band)
Genre: Angel Wings, Angels, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Apocalypse, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-30
Updated: 2013-05-30
Packaged: 2020-10-27 15:49:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20762909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taemun/pseuds/taemun
Summary: Yunho was used to oily birds, fridges, bicycles and even rusty car bodies; but that day, something entirely different got caught in his nets.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Bringing some of my old fics over from livejournal for archiving.

Yunho reached for the float. It was his first net of the day, the one he had set closest to the shore. He didn’t set that many nets anyway, spending most of his day trawling the seafloor with the bottom trawl attached to the end of his small boat. The gillnets he used were more like a memorial, something he set close to a small islet every night and checked every morning, if only for the sake of times so old he had never witnessed them himself.  
  
He didn’t even like checking them very much. Most mornings, the sea was oily close to the shoreline. The greasy surface reflected all shades of rainbow in slick, floating circles when the sun finally started peeking from behind the horizon, sheepishly asking for permission to rise. At a time, he had tried checking the gillnets before sunrise in order to escape facing the foul sight, but after birds started getting caught in his nets, he had abandoned the idea. He hadn’t been able to determine their condition in the dark. After he had made the mistake of bringing a half-dead, hypothermic bird back home a few times, just to end up having to put them down after discovering they were hardly breathing anymore, he had resumed checking the nets after dawn.  
  
It was better to end the pathetic birds’ lives immediately if they were suffering too greatly. Even so, to this day, Yunho checked each bird carefully, going through their oily feathers with soft touches, pulling their tired eyes gently open to inspect them carefully for possible infections. Sometimes the birds were shivering violently, lazy to react to Yunho’s touches in any way, their breathing as slow as a human being’s. He knew immediately those were the ones he had to kill, the ones so oily Yunho could hardly hold them in his hands without his grip slipping. Their eyes would be yellowish and dull or alternatively red and running, legs limp and sluggish, sides thin. They never made a sound when Yunho wrung their necks, freeing them from their undeserved fate.  
  
But if the bird resisted at all, made any tired attempt at pecking the hand helping to untangle it from the knots, Yunho would eagerly place it in the large white Styrofoam box he had set on the deck next to the cabin. It was equipped with an old, shabby yellow blanket he used to keep the algid birds warm.  
  
Saving birds from oil and relieving the lost cases from their pain was an ample if a much detested part of Yunho’s day. Lately, he would find them even at his own home shore. Most of the birds caught in his nets where lesser ones, auks and shearwaters and seagulls—lots of seagulls—and the occasional gannet; but he had seen a few cormorants too, and once, he found a mute swan staggering on the shallow rock next to his humble pier. The swan had been a sickly grey in colour, black streaks running down its elegant wings that were dragging against the ground, saturated and heavy with the polluting substance.  
  
Yunho had been extremely glad when he had had to chase the bird for a good quarter of an hour before he had managed to catch it. It had definitely been a positive sign; and true to Yunho’s hopeful estimate, the bird had been out of his small, self-built rehabilitation centre in less than two weeks.  
  
The same could not have been said about the great frigatebird he had found lying on his front step a day later. Yunho had seen death in its eyes, but entranced by its warm, red chest—a patch of bright colour so rare at the high seas where days were grey and nights were greyer—he had tried his best.  
  
The next day when the bird had died with a miserable gurgle out of its famished throat, Yunho had smashed the window on his hut’s northern wall in his helpless fury.  
  
A day after, calmed down, while he had covered the pitiful window with a rickety piece of panel on both the inner and the outer side, he had held himself a short self-reflection session. No birds with dead eyes, he had reminded himself. Not even if the bird is red. You’ll only end up disappointed.  
  
When Yunho noticed him for the first time, he thought it was another swan, tangled in the nets. From a distance, the curled up creature looked no bigger than a large adult bird. Worrying whether he’d be able to fit it in his Styrofoam box, Yunho nervously started hauling the net up. There was a small, plucked seagull trapped in the net first, scaled legs painfully intertwined in the knotted string. Yunho grabbed it firmly around its chest, hand secured on its beak so it wouldn’t be able to peck his hand. Uttering comforting words to it in a low voice, he untied the net effectively, the bird releasing pitiful, high-pitched warning cries. Yunho stroked its greasy feather coat, frowning at the saturating oil that was preventing the bird from flying. After fastening the net securely around a handle on the side of the rail of his boat, he hurried to deposit the bird into the makeshift nest he had prepared. He placed it down carefully, folding the worn-out blanket loosely on top of it.  
  
He then quickly returned to the net, pulling the sea green puzzle of strings up carefully, wary and heedful of any other possible helpless animals, despite his hurry to get to the large white bird.  
  
When he finally reached the white creature he had thought to be a swan, he was taken aback, almost dropping the net he was always holding in a seasoned fisherman’s vice-like grip. The creature was heaving thoroughly in rhythm to its slowed breathing, large wings covering its shivering body. Just from the position of its upright wings Yunho could already see it was no bird. Birds’ damaged wings were always awkwardly spread, drooping down like unnecessary additions to their thin bodies, flailing around flaccidly when they tried to fight against Yunho’s rescue attempts. This one was clearly hugging itself underneath them, trying to hide from Yunho’s sight. With occasional tired bursts of energy, it tried to free itself of the tangled strings cutting sharply into its delicate feathers.  
  
Yunho pulled the net slightly upwards; a weight very light, but still greater than even the largest bird’s, was dragging down his efforts. The creature was slightly lifted, and under Yunho’s flustered stare it moved its other wing slightly, forming a narrow gap between the magnificent pinions. A large, reddened eye met his gaze, blinking rapidly, widened and unfocused pupil filled with great fear. Its lashes were burdened by yellowish mucus, runny liquid seeping down despite the constant blinking, forming a sad white streak on a cheek otherwise tainted by oil.  
  
It took Yunho a few moments to snap out of it, but soon he was bending over the rail of his boat, reaching his hand out to touch the creature. It flinched at his outstretched hand, wings drawing back but still not covering the panicky eye darting about Yunho’s approaching form.  
  
“There, there,” he hummed in an attempt to calm the fearful creature down, ”I am just helping you. I will help you free of this net, don’t worry, shhhh…”  
  
His fingertips reached the creature’s wing, sliding against the filthy, soft feathers. Never pausing the constant flow of calming nonsense coming out of his mouth, Yunho caressed the appendage gently. The creature seemed to relax slightly, body still trembling underneath the protective cover of its wings but it didn’t make any further desperate escape attempts. Sliding his hand against the feather coat until it reached the strings of the net, Yunho hooked a few fingers between the knots and the creature’s skin. Its plumage was scattered with strips of blood, snapped feathers sticking out in odd directions. He could feel its chafed skin under his fingertips, emerging under the bent feathers, friable and exposed.  
  
With a quick, firm movement of one hand, he unsheathed the short, sturdy knife he always carried on his waist, bringing it forth to shear the strings open. When the creature saw the weapon, it started struggling frantically, letting out small breathy cries.  
  
Yunho tried to secure the wing under his hand, afraid of attempting to use the knife while the creature was resisting.  
  
“Shhh, I’m not going to hurt you, I have to cut the net open if I want to free you,” he tried to coax the panicking being, holding the knife safely away from it. “You need to stop struggling, I cannot do this if you are moving. Shhh, shush now…”  
  
When the creature showed no sign of ceasing its resistance, Yunho was forced to perform an action he had wanted to avoid if only possible, worried of the damage it might do to the creature’s wings. He extracted his hands and pulled at the net, dragging the creature up onto the deck alongside with it.  
  
What he saw was even more wondrous than what he had expected. Tangled in his net, now even worse than before due to the on-going fight, was a scrawny boy, wings larger than himself projecting from his protruding shoulder blades. Feathers ran down his spine, whole body covered in thin down, currently black and greasy with oil, sticking against his skin like the fur of a drowned rat. The boy’s complexion, as much of it as was visible underneath the filth covering his whole body, was pale, tinting towards a mix of purple and sickly turquoise on his fingers and toes, thin blue veins running visible under the filmy cover of his skin.  
  
The boy was staring at him, red eyes still running, too afraid to move in the slightest. Carefully, Yunho kneeled before him, a palm offered open as a sign of peace, other hand holding the knife behind his back so that the boy wouldn’t notice it. The boy’s face was gaunt, cheekbones sticking out so sharply Yunho was afraid to touch his face as it looked like it was made of rice paper. He kept murmuring in a low, comforting voice as he reached his arm out and softly gathered the boy across his lap, burying the other's face onto the surface of his coarse woollen jumper. He held the boy down firmly before easing the knife between the strings and the feathers of his wings, cutting the net with precise slashes of the blade. The boy didn’t move. Whether he was frozen with fear, slipping into unconsciousness, or just tired from all the struggling, Yunho didn’t know; but his skin was slippery and cold underneath his touch, as if Yunho had lifted a block of ice on his lap.  
  
Just like the birds, the oil had soaked the boys’ feathers and the protective down, allowing the chilly seawater directly on his skin. Yunho didn’t know how long the boy had been floating in the water, but even if Yunho had only set his net the night before, the poor little creature could have been marred by the oil even days earlier.  
  
In that case, his hypothermia would be at a severe stage. Judging from the boy’s slow breathing, his heart rate had already decreased gravely. After carefully detaching the cut down strings from the boy’s feathers, mindful of the deep, thin cuts on his skin, Yunho quickly placed two fingers on the boy’s neck and a hand on his own, comparing their pulse rate.  
  
The boy’s pulse was less than half in speed compared to the rhythm of his own blood.  
  
Yunho pushed the boy back slightly, hastily shucking his raincoat and pulling his thick, grey jumper over his head. Carefully hooking his hands underneath the boy’s arms, trying to avoid touching his injured wings, he pulled the boy tightly against his bare chest, knowing full well that body heat was the best way to warm up an algid body. Supporting the scrawny, naked kid against his body easily with one arm, he hooked the boy’s legs around his waist the best he could, the poor thing’s lethargic muscles unable to help Yunho in his task. He picked up the jumper and tried to arrange it over the boy’s narrow shoulders, but the drooping wings prevented him from really getting it around the boy’s body close enough to actually warm him up. Bunching the raincoat under the arm he was supporting the boy’s bottom with, Yunho slowly stood up before tucking the boy’s drenched head against his neck. He tried to place the boy’s frozen fingers under his own armpits, knowing them to be one of the warmest spots on his whole body, but the boy’s limp, feeble arms kept dropping down so he had to give up.  
  
The boy’s lightness was highly disconcerting, especially considering the added weight of his wings saturated with oil and water. Yunho had seen his eyes and knew he was suffering from infections; but more than that, he was worried of the boy’s malnourished appearance. Living on a small, rocky island alone, Yunho hardly had any foodstuff suitable for nursing a starved being. The inspector usually only brought him canned food and sacks of rice, millet, and occasionally a few of beans.  
  
Praying he still had some beef stock left in the freezer so that he could make the boy some savoury porridge, Yunho threw the end of the net over the rail, back into the sea. The net sank down in a straggly pile, the float popping up and down on the waves. Yunho would have to collect it another day.  
  
Slowly walking over to the wheel with the boy attached to his front, legs dangling down on both sides of his thighs, wrapped inside the woollen jumper and the raincoat the best he could manage, Yunho peeked over the edge of the Styrofoam box to check on his other protégé. The seagull was lying down, eyes closed, but from the slight rise of its back Yunho could see it was still breathing.  
  
There was a constant drizzle that occasionally escalated into a heavier shower, beating against Yunho's back. With the ice-cold creature fixed against his chest, he fought the goosebumps attempting to break out on his skin as he started steering the boat towards his home island.  
  
When the trawler finally bumped against Yunho's small pier, the boy was starting to stir, rubbing his face slightly against Yunho’s bare skin. Yunho’s chest and thick trousers were soaked in oil by now, but the man hardly paid any attention to the filth spreading over his skin from the boy’s body. The boy’s feet that had been swinging around uselessly were sneaking around his legs slowly, until the boy finally managed to cross his ankles on the back of Yunho’s thighs. After shutting down the engine, Yunho placed both of his hands under the boy’s behind and hoisted him upwards, settling his legs around his waist. Yunho’s arms had started growing weary despite the boy’s rather non-existent weight, and he was thankful for the added support. For a second time, he tried tucking the boy’s still frigid fingers under his armpits, and this time his frail limbs had enough strength to remain resting upwards against Yunho’s sides.  
  
Yunho had to get to the sauna fast. However, fastening the boat onto the bollards or even jumping down from the deck—small, ordinary everyday tasks he usually did without giving them one thought—suddenly seemed exceedingly difficult to execute. Yunho walked to the Styrofoam box and bent down awkwardly sideways, dragging it over to the rail while trying to keep the boy from sliding down. When he reached the rail, he paused his administrations, lost. He couldn’t leave the seagull in the boat either, since once he would get to the sauna he couldn’t possibly leave the boy there alone.  
  
Glad that he had wrapped the seagull inside the blanket earlier, he sat down on the deck, legs dangling over the rail. Now that his arms were free as the boy was just sitting on his lap, he managed to lift up the tired bird and hug it next to his side with the arm he kept under the boy’s bottom.  
  
It was quite an acrobatic performance, he but did manage to manoeuvre all three of them down to the pier, the boy releasing a pained whimper when Yunho accidentally bumped his feet against the boat’s side. The bird, however, remained quiet.  
  
Finally on his two feet safely on shore, Yunho started jogging towards the small wooden shack he had built on the western side of the island. He had always been quite proud of the result, but never had he known it would actually prove so useful. He had already washed countless birds off the oil covering them, letting them rest in the small corral he had built behind the sauna, feeding them until they finally were strong enough to fly away.  
  
The inspector had started questioning his need for absurd amounts of detergent soon, but when he’d shown his little bird hospital to the man, he had only laughed and squeezed Yunho’s shoulder. It’s good you have ways to keep yourself entertained out here, he had said. I get the shivers every time I come here and I only come here once every two months.  
  
After that Yunho had always gotten any amount of detergent he had asked for.  
  
Yunho heaved the front door open, hurrying through the entranceway and opening a second door leading to the sauna itself. Placing the quiet bird on a bench, he quickly walked over to the boiler with the boy still glued against his chest, silently thanking every god out there that he had boiled a full boiler of water the night before. When he lifted the lid, he could see the water was still steaming.  
  
He retrieved a large washing basin, filling it with cold water from the faucet he had set up, extending the water pipe from his home to the sauna. Picking up a ladle, he shovelled some hot water into the basin, carefully testing it and mixing in more until he was content with the temperature. He knew too well pouring hot water on a hypothermic body would not end up well, and so he mixed the waters until it was around his own body temperature.  
  
Quickly shucking off his boots and trousers, leaving only his boxers on, he also threw away his woollen jumper and raincoat that had been bundled around the boy’s narrow body before sitting down on the bench next to the seagull, the boy straddling his lap. The boy’s ankles fell down from where they had been crossed over Yunho’s back. However, when Yunho tried pull the boy back a little so that he could start with washing their chests, the boy’s arms suddenly fastened around his neck as he pressed himself even closer to Yunho. Helpless, the man ran his hands down the boy’s feathery spine, stroking his slick skin in a calming manner.  
  
“I’m just going to wash this oil off you now. Hmm? I’m all dirty myself too… I need to get this off, I promise I’ll make you something to eat after we’re clean. Hmm?”  
  
The boy’s only answer was a tightening grip. Yunho’s sighed, lifting his other hand to pet the boy’s greasy hair before sliding him slightly to the side, so that he was sitting only on Yunho’s other thigh.  
  
“I’ll wash the bird first then, is that okay? You can watch.”  
  
There was no answer, but without waiting for one Yunho reached under the bench where he stored the detergent. He poured some into the washing basin before wordlessly unwrapping the seagull from the yellow blanket and lifting it against his thigh. He picked up the ladle and started lathering the bird with the warm water, carefully working his hand through every feather. He stretched its white wings outwards, noting that some of its largest primary feathers were damaged or completely missing, making the bird’s wings look quite pathetic and naked. Yunho was quite worried of their state; even though the bird was sure to recover its energy, the severe condition of its feathers might endanger its ability to fly.  
  
Sighing, Yunho folded the wings back up against the bird’s body after carefully washing underneath them. He paid extra close attention to the seagull’s head, carefully rubbing over its eyelids while holding its beak, forcing it to keep still.  
  
When he finally got around to rinsing the detergent imbued water off the bird, Yunho noticed that the boy had lifted his head slightly, staring at the bird intently with one eye, half of his face still buried onto Yunho’s neck. His both arms were still tightly wound up around Yunho’s neck, but Yunho could feel his fingers weren’t as cold anymore as before. After wrapping the cleaned bird back inside the blanket where it seemed to start dozing off right away, Yunho pulled to boy back fully onto his lap, placing his hands on the boy’s cheeks to carefully pry him off his skin.  
  
He knew hypothermic people hardly acted rationally, but the boy seemed to be regaining both his body warmth and his senses. Deeming it a good time for a second try, Yunho pushed the boy’s face backwards, and this time the boy’s arms gave in, slackening their grip around his neck.  
  
His eyes were still running incessantly and his face was as dirty as before, and Yunho could feel the oil the other had rubbed against his skin trickling down his shoulder. But the look in the boy’s eyes was sharper than before, only slight hesitance marring the wide pools of black. The boy’s pupils were indeed black, nothing like any other pair of eyes Yunho had ever seen before; the colour was darker than the oil staining the skin around them. His hair was of a similar raven shade, sticking to the sides of his face, a few strands even entering his slightly ajar lips that were hardly distinguishable in colour from the rest of his face. Yunho shifted one of his hands to pry the sticky strands out of his mouth, smoothing his hair back, out of his face.  
  
“Alright,” he murmured, still maintain the same reassuring tone he had been using on the boy all the while. He didn’t look scared anymore, but Yunho didn’t want to take any risks as he pried the boys other arm off him, picking up the ladle to start cleaning his skin. The oil stuck to his down and at points Yunho had to add more detergent directly on his skin, but slowly he managed to wash him, part by part. Eventually, he only had the injured wings left, having washed his back just by reaching over the boy’s shoulder and around his waist. Even his feet were clean now, even though in contrast to his otherwise snow-white body, they were still stiff and purple. Yunho had almost felt like crying when he scrubbed his chilly toes, massaging them in order to get the blood circulating properly in them again. The birds were so much easier, their bodies one tight ball so that when the warmth returned, it happened quite fast; but with the poor boy’s long, frail limbs, it took a long time until his newly regained body warmth reached the outermost parts.  
  
The boy’s breathing was quicker than before, his protruding ribs heaving up and down in rhythm to it. There were some scratches and quite a lot of bruises on his body, but Yunho knew the deepest cuts the net had caused on his skin were on his wings. He had no desire to try washing the delicate appendages blindly from the position they were in now, so the only option was to somehow convince the boy to get off his lap.  
  
It really seemed like easier said than done, considering his earlier behaviour. However, Yunho also needed to bring the bird to the corral and feed it before he took the boy to his hut, so he would have to go through with it in any case.  
  
Yunho threw one more ladle of warm water on top of the boy’s head, rinsing his black hair. The boy lifted his hands to his face immediately, rubbing the water off his eyes, bubbles trailing down his collarbones.  
  
“Would you…” Yunho started hesitantly, and the boy lowered his hands from his eyes, staring Yunho right in the eye. His gaze was piercing, and it threw Yunho slightly off, making him forget what he was aiming to do for a short moment. Then, he placed his palms on the boy’s waist, and to his great surprise, the boy made no effort to stop him when Yunho slid him off his lap, sitting him down on the bench next him. He brushed the boy’s shoulder length hair away and turned his body away from himself so that the boy's wings were in front of him.  
  
The boy’s wings were magnificent even in their tainted state. They looked like they were animate even when they were still, slight tremors constantly running throughout them like pulses of energy. The feathers were long and elegant, neatly tucked against each other. Here and there, there were a few broken ones, breaking the fine, systematic order, sticking out in a conspicuous way. Especially the boy’s left wing had suffered greatly from the net, bloodied stumps jutting out depressingly around paper cut thin wounds.  
  
Yunho reached his hand forward to touch the trembling appendix. The wing caved under his touch, pliantly bending closer to the boy’s body when Yunho stroked it with an open palm.  
  
“This might sting,” Yunho whispered before holding up a ladle of water blended with detergent and pouring it over the wing. He rubbed the foam on gently, flinching every time the wing jerked under his touch. Washing the oil off was easy enough for him, but the blood made him cringe. The cuts were quite deep and Yunho was sure he’d have to disinfect and bandage them properly. The only problem was, he had never treated any wings like that. The bird’s wounds he mostly left to themselves; if the birds were well enough they cured quite fast as long as they got fed properly. He was worried he would further damage the feathers if he tied them in an inappropriate manner.  
  
Feather by feather, Yunho cleaned the shuddering wings. Their almost blinding whiteness uncovered gradually, making Yunho feel as if he was looking at something he shouldn’t be, something not meant for his eyes. Pushing such useless thoughts out of his head, he stood up to retrieve one last basin of water so that he could efficiently rinse off all the remaining detergent on both of them. His own legs were still greyish, but he thought he could just scrub himself more thoroughly the next day; the boy was the priority after all.  
  
Before he could take one step away, slender arms snuck around his thigh. He looked down to see the boy sluggishly hugging his leg, looking up at him with alarmed eyes. He tousled his hair, trying to detach his hands from his leg.  
  
“I’m only mixing you more water,” Yunho said, and the boy stared at him for a moment longer before pulling his arms back reluctantly. Yunho walked over to the faucet, but while he waited for the basin to fill with cold water, he couldn’t resist glancing back at the boy. He was sitting on the edge of the bench, keeping watch over Yunho, like a hawk ready to dive down from a treetop as soon as a hare appeared.  
  
Yunho stretched his lips into what he hoped to be a friendly smile and waved at the boy even though there were only two metres between them. He reckoned doing all he could to affirm the boy he wasn’t leaving could do no harm. The boy didn’t reciprocate his actions in any way, his eyes barely skimming over Yunho’s moving hand, instead fixed on his face.  
  
After pouring in a few ladles of hot water from the boiler, he walked back to the boy who seemed to relax when Yunho was back within his reach. After rinsing the boy’s wings carefully, he dumped the rest over the boy’s head, turning the whole basin over. The boy spluttered, surprised, and glared at Yunho after he got his eyes open again. His eyes were still swollen and red, but they were running considerably less now that his skin was clean, small trails of transparent liquid dripping down his cheeks. Yunho bent down to thumb the secretion away.  
  
“Sit here. I will be back in a second, I’m taking the bird to its home now. Okay?” he asked, stroking the boy’s sharp cheekbones, feeling the thinness of his face under his palms. The boy’s penetrating gaze was on him for a moment before he turned his eyes to look at the slumbering seagull and nodded slowly.  
  
It was the first time he showed any sign of actually understanding what Yunho had said.  
  
Yunho took one last, concerned look at him before picking the bird up and stepping outside of the sauna. The morning air was chilly on his wet, naked skin, but he if anyone was used to extreme weather conditions and such, living all year around on the small island in the middle of the sea.  
  
Yunho jogged over to the corral, opening the small door to the chain-link cage. There were several small boxes on the ground, filled with hay and a small blanket. None of them were occupied at the moment, only one other bird in the corral. It was eating, head half buried in the fish parings Yunho mostly fed them. It looked up warily when Yunho entered, but when the man didn’t walk any closer, it just continued gobbling down the smelly scraps.  
  
Yunho spared the bird a glance, walking promptly to a box to put the seagull into. He arranged the yellow blanket around it and grabbed the closest water bowl, pulling it next to the box and lowering the bird near to it. He made sure it drank some before arranging it into the box comfortably, with the blanket around it but not too tight so that it could get out whenever it wanted.  
  
Yunho had been feeling anxious from the moment he had left the boy alone in the sauna, something inside his mind telling him it was really not a good choice to make. As soon as the bird was safe and sound, he stood up, racing out of the cage, barely slowing down to close the door after himself. He hurried up the front stairs of the small building and wrenched both doors open as fast as he could.  
  
It made him stop dead in his tracks, the empty bench in front of him. Only the half empty detergent bottle and the washing basin greeted him back, looking lonely the way they were laying on the wooden surface.  
  
Then he heard a quiet whimper, so quiet he could’ve missed it under the sound of running water.  
  
Running water. Yunho turned his head and there the boy was, sitting under the faucet that had been turned on full force, ice-cold water beating down on his skin. He looked extremely miserable and wet with his hair glued to his scalp, legs bent in awkward angles. Even with the shock, it took Yunho less than a second to fly forwards, wrench the kid out of the water and pull him against his chest. The boy let out a startled cry, wriggling inside his embrace.  
  
“What are you doing, you crazy kid,” he started scolding the other, out of breath, “you have hypothermia! I need to have you warm, not under an icy shower, god, what are you doing…”  
  
The boy jerked when Yunho rubbed his arms in order to get them warm again and let out another wail. Yunho pulled back slightly, just enough to notice there was a new wound on the boy’s body—a burn on his right shoulder. It wasn’t too wide, but from the redness of the skin Yunho could already see it would blister. The boy raised his arm, and when Yunho followed it to the direction of his outstretched finger, he saw the boiler. Even though he had boiled water in it the night before, the large amount of hot water kept the metal barrel searing for long hours.  
  
“Oh god,” Yunho sighed, adjusting the faucet so that the water fell down slightly more gently. He tried to arrange them under it so that the boy didn’t have to shower his whole body with the cold water. It was awkward as the faucet was quite low and the boy’s large wings restricted their movement a lot.  
  
“Didn’t I tell you to sit there on the bench until I came back? What were you trying to do… I bet your legs don’t even work yet, an hour ago you couldn’t even force your muscles to keep you legs crossed around my waist… That’s it right? You fell down right? Ah, what should I do with you… Tie you onto the bench or what…”  
  
Yunho kept babbling to the boy, rubbing his palms continuously over the boy’s arms, trying his best to keep him warm despite the chilly water pouring down on them. A burn on hypothermic skin was not a thing to be taken lightly, but the boy really needed to be completely warmed up, finally.  
  
They sat there for around ten minutes, but when the boy’s head started nodding and his limbs turning sluggish again, Yunho turned the faucet off, heedless of the burning red skin on the boy shoulder. He would just have to put some salve on it, the boy couldn’t afford any more time under cold water. Gathering the boy’s legs around his waist again, he pulled himself up and picked up the largest towel he could find before sitting down on the bench. He dried them carefully, the boy’s forehead resting against his shoulder the whole time, breath coming out in puffs against Yunho’s collarbone, slower once again but this time because of sleep.  
  
Not knowing what to do with his wings, Yunho just dabbed them lightly, cautious of the broken feathers. The boy seemed to be steadily slumbering, hardly reacting to his actions in any way. When his cool skin had been ridded of all moistness, Yunho stood up and quickly slid down his oil-dirtied boxers, kicking the pile of dirty clothes away from the centre of the floor, closer to the wall. He slipped his feet into his boots before wrapping the towel tightly around them both and taking a deep breath. He stood in front of the door for a second before bolting out.  
  
One arm under the boy’s behind, the other around the boy’s back, he tried to shield him from the drizzle the best he could. Fortunately the island he lived on was really quite small—the first time in his life he thought it to be fortunate—and it took him only a few dozen steps to reach the front door of his hut. He never bothered to lock it, as there were no other people around, so he just wrenched the door open and ran inside, slamming it close right after him.  
  
Standing on the doorstep with the boy wrapped in a thick towel perched on his hip, Yunho let his heart calm down after the sprint and the warmth inside the room linger around his naked body. First of all, he needed to have the boy drink something, as he had been floating around in salty seawater for an indefinite time; he was sure to be dehydrated.  
  
Kicking his boots off, Yunho stepped further into the room, walking over to his small chest of drawers and pulling one open. He rummaged through the pile of singular socks and crumbled t-shirts before he found a pair of clean underwear. With much difficulty, he managed to wiggle his other foot in, the other following. Squirming his body in what would have surely been a comical sight had the situation not been so serious, changing the hand he utilised every few seconds, he managed to shimmy the piece of clothing up his body.  
  
Still reluctant to put the boy down as the poor thing’s whole body had broken out in goosebumps again, Yunho went to his gas stove and turned it on, thanking his luck when he managed to lit the fire with just one match. Scratching it against the box and trying to keep the boy from sliding down while peeking over his shoulder was quite a complicated task, and Yunho had to also be careful with the slightly drooping wings, keeping them as far away from the fire as possible. He walked over to his fridge-freezer, opening the bottom part. If he remembered right, he still had some of the beef stock the inspector had brought him the last time he had visited. He had presented the broth his wife had made as if it was some rare exotic delicacy.  
  
Despite everything, Yunho had to admit the inspector had at least one virtue; he truly loved his wife. To Yunho’s great fortune, the said wife happened to be a rather decent cook.  
  
Finding the grey-lidded box, Yunho shoved the freezer door shut and dumped the icy contents of the box to the closest kettle he could find, lifting it to sit over the blue fire. He was getting rather tired from carrying the boy around, so he went to sit on his bed, uncurling the boy’s legs from around his waist, re-arranging him sideways on his lap so that he could continue his sleep in a more comfortable position. The boy’s arms were still around his neck, but rather slackly, threatening to fall off at any moment. Yunho yanked the blanket out from underneath himself and pulled it over the boy’s legs, gathering the towel more tightly against him as well. Resting his back against the wall, he watched the kettle, waiting for the melting substance inside it to start steaming.  
  
Yunho wasn’t sure if he’d fallen asleep himself, despite the hour being well before midday, but when he opened his eyes the next time, the kettle was boiling, sounds of popping bubbles reverberating inside the silent hut. He stood up quickly, almost forgetting that the boy was wholly on his lap now, but managed to weasel the boy’s legs in a different position before he fell down. Yunho hurried to the stove, turning the gas off before he lifted the kettle and placed it under the faucet, pouring some cold water in to make the stock into a pleasant, warm soup. He then poured the broth into a large mug, and sitting on one of the two chairs he owned, he placed the mug on the table.  
  
Prying the boy’s hands off his neck, Yunho rubbed his forearm to wake him up.  
  
“Hey, kid. You have to drink now before going to sleep,” he murmured. The boy’s head barely moved from his shoulder, tilting sideways when Yunho continued to try to get him sit upright. Yunho shook his shoulder slightly and the boy stirred, red eyes opening but hardly seeing anything. An alarming amount of liquid streamed down his cheek the moment his eyelids opened. He blinked, unable to focus his eyes, but Yunho just picked the mug from the table and nudged it against his lips. As long as the boy could swallow, he was awake enough.  
  
The boy turned his head away from the mug, his brow furrowing, but Yunho kept placing it on his lips again and again, trying to coax him with gentle words at the same time.  
  
“I promise you you can sleep however long you want after you just finish this,” he murmured.  
  
When they boy finally noticed the annoying item in front of his face wasn’t going anywhere, he tried widening his eyes in order to make sense of everything, but Yunho could see he was still barely conscious. Yunho shoved the mug against his mouth a little more firmly this time, and when the boy cracked his lips open, Yunho elevated the mug, forcing the boy to tip his head slightly backwards. In the safe position, he let the warm broth flow down in small ratios, giving the boy ample time to finish swallowing during every pause. It took them quite long, but in the end he did manage to feed the whole mug to the boy, even refilling it with plain water and cajoling it down the boy’s throat as well.  
  
Even such slight effort seemed to exhaust the boy totally, especially after all the stress he had had to endure in the sauna, and when he finally finished drinking, he buried his face firmly onto Yunho’s shoulder, a clear sign that he wasn’t going to have any more. Yunho sighed, placed the mug in the sink and walked back to the bed, caressing the boy’s raven hair and whispering encouraging words to him, feeling as if he was praising a child on a job well done.  
  
He knew he couldn’t really let the boy lie down before he had treated his burn and the wounds on his wings, but the boy certainly didn't have to be awake for that. Collecting his small first aid kit, Yunho rubbed some soothing balm on the burn before covering it with a few dressings and wrapping a bandage over his arm and even around his chest, just to keep it firmly in place. With the thin cuts on he boy’s wings, he settled with just disinfecting them. He was quite sure he would only further bother the delicate feathers, many already broken or stubbed, if he tried bandaging them.  
  
Lying himself down on the bed, still clad only in his boxers in order to warm up the other’s small body as much as be could, he pulled the boy to lie halfway on top of his chest before carefully folding up his wings and pulling the blanket over both of them. He tried to warm the other’s cold toes between his own legs, and tucked his fingers under his own body too, pulling the boy as close as possible.  
  
The small creature curled into himself, soft puffs of breath hitting Yunho’s neck. The man was not tired at all as he had barely just woken up for the day; but as he was used to silent, uneventful days, lying there under the boy, lending him his body warmth was not a hard task for Yunho. He lay awake for hours, adjusting the boy every time he seemed uncomfortable, careful of his wings and his wounded shoulder, until he finally fell asleep himself when the room started to dim with falling darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

  
Yunho woke up to an incessant rapping noise. Immediately, in his only half-awake state, he felt too light, like something was missing. The moment he realised it was not only the lack of a blanket to warm his cool body, he sprang up, eyes searching the room frantically. He was already estimating what the possibility that he had have left the stove on was, ready to leap for the faucet in case of any new burns, when his eyes landed on the slouched frame next to the front door. The boy was still stark naked, his legs bent under him slightly awkwardly, and his large eyes were on Yunho.  
  
They both sat still, staring at each other for a moment, and as Yunho’s brain digested the information that the boy didn’t seem to be any further hurt, he finally let his heart calm down.  
  
The rapping sound continued, and the boy turned his head towards the door again, pressing his palm against it. His fingers tensed against the wooden surface as he reached his other hand up, aiming for the doorknob. Yunho watched his back muscles strain, the constant, fluid vibration of his wings getting more intense, until the boy finally managed to curl his fingers around the doorknob. Hanging onto it in an almost comical manner, he stretched his other hand upwards as well, his butt lifting slightly from the floor as he supported his whole body with his arms.  
  
Yunho watched him struggle with opening the door, his fingers slipping from the knob repeatedly. The rapping coming from the other side never ceased, increasing to a gentle knock every now and then before quieting down to an occasional tap again.  
  
Yunho sighed, flinging his legs off the bed, placing his bare feet against the floor covered with a simple rug, feeling the softness of worn-out scraps of old clothes under his toes. Usually he would get lost in his thoughts, wondering about each piece of clothing that had been used to create the rug. This time, the heart-breaking sight in front of his eyes efficiently took his mind off the old carpet. He placed his elbow on his knee, sighing again when he rested his cheek against an open palm.  
  
“Your legs are still not working, are they,” he noted, heavy-hearted. The boy turned to Yunho again, almost losing his balance as he let go of the doorknob. As if to verify Yunho’s statement, he started crawling towards him, legs dragging behind in a strange manner as he grovelled forwards. It wasn’t that they looked entirely useless either; the boy seemed to be somewhat using his knees as a means to push his body forwards, but despite the muscles apparently working, he couldn’t support himself up on all fours.  
  
Yunho knew he should’ve stood up to pick the boy up from the ground, but his limbs felt heavy and weary as he watched the other approach him. It was as if all the determination that had been raging inside his body the day before had suddenly dissipated and vanished into thin air. So he sat there, watching the other’s cumbersome proceeding from his spot on the bed top.  
  
The boy’s narrow, scrawny body flexed as he crawled forwards, skin almost as white as his wings or the bandage Yunho had tied around his shoulder and chest. He was almost glowing, his immaculate nakedness flawed only by the numerous wounds on his skin. Once again Yunho felt like he was looking at something not meant for his eyes. He averted his gaze abashedly, staring at his toes and the colourful rug underneath them.  
  
The boy reached him, grabbing Yunho’s leg with both of his hands, pulling himself back into a sitting position and laying his cheek on Yunho’s thigh. His dark eyes were wide and hard to read, staring up at the helpless fisherman. They were still running, thick transparent liquid pouring over the corners, but the redness had considerably subsided. Yunho reached a hand downwards, caressing the boy’s thin cheek with the back of his knuckles.  
  
Now that the boy was tidy and dried up, the fluffy down covering the whole expanse of his pale skin was almost transparent, only making the lines of his body seem slightly fuzzy; but when Yunho touched his skin, it felt incredibly soft and pleasant under his fingers. However, his chilly body temperature was still disconcerting. Pulling his hand back, Yunho sighed deeply before averting his eyes again.  
  
“Seems like I need to clothe you,” he said, and just as he made an effort to stand up, the boy spoke, cheek still pressed against Yunho’s bare thigh.  
  
“Then the eyes of both of them opened, and they knew they were naked; so they sewed fig leaves together and made coverings for themselves.”  
  
It made him stop dead in his tracks. When he turned to look at the boy’s face again, it seemed like nothing had changed; like no one had uttered a word. The boy was still there, looking essentially exactly the same as before, staring at him with depthless eyes. But then the boy spoke again, voice rough and breathy, sounding as if he hadn’t used it in a while.  
  
“You’re a Man of the Fall,” the boy commented, almost absentmindedly even though his eyes were still intently on Yunho. “Is your name Adam?”  
  
“No, my name is Yunho,” the man answered, befuddled, taken aback by the boy’s throaty voice. “Is your name Eve then?”  
  
The boy stared at him, his head still resting on Yunho’s leg, expression grave and thoughtful. “Are your eyes open after all?” he enquired. “I’m no woman. I’m no man either. My name is Jaejoong.”  
  
Suddenly, Yunho felt like chuckling. The situation was much too absurd, this little creature sitting at his feet, citing the Bible at him with large white wings oscillating on his back. Not knowing what else to do, he stood up, making the boy teeter until he managed to secure himself against the side of the bed.  
  
Yunho could feel a gaze on his back as he walked towards the door. When the boy hadn’t been talking, it had been almost possible to pretend he was just another bird, an oddly large and unimaginably beautiful one but a bird nonetheless. Yunho was much better with birds than with humans.  
  
The rapping hadn’t stopped for even a moment, so Yunho busied himself opening the door the boy had been unable to. It wasn’t locked; all he had to do was turn the doorknob and he could tug it wide open. There wasn’t anything behind it to be seen though, and Yunho only looked down when he felt something sweep over his bare foot.  
  
“How did you get here?” he wondered aloud, stunned.  
  
The seagull let out a brief wail, waddling on the floor towards the boy sitting next to Yunho’s bed, still bracing himself against the side of it. Yunho watched as the boy focused his black, bottomless eyes on the bird, holding out his arms towards it. The seagull was walking very slowly, now and then stumbling over its own wing that was sticking out awkwardly, dragging against the floor. Yunho could already see the important primary feathers and the tips of the wings were too damaged, preventing the bird from folding its wings properly. The bird would never fly again.  
  
The boy, _Jaejoong_, was making a weird calming rattle at the back of his throat, the bird answering him with short high-pitched cries. When it tripped over itself completely, landing on its chest, neck craned weirdly, Yunho couldn’t take it anymore. With two long strides, he had caught up with the small animal and picked it up. Just when he was about to wring its neck, hands already positioned accordingly, Jaejoong startled him.  
  
“What are you doing?!” the boy screeched, black pupils blown wide. His whole body was tensed, unable to spring up and launch at Yunho, but the fisherman could see it wasn’t because of the lack of trying. Even Jaejoong’s wings were spread out, trembling uncontrollably, the animated flutter that never stopped increased to a violent shudder.  
  
Yunho glanced at the bird in his hands, writhing helplessly under his far superior strength, crying miserably. He looked at Jaejoong, meeting the boy’s still running eyes, and then looked back to the glistening bead eye of the bird he was holding in his hands. The seagull had quieted, staring up at Yunho with the one eye that was facing him. Its fragile chest betrayed the seemingly calm bird, rising and lowering to the rhythm of its quickened breathing.  
  
“I— I… It’s not going to fly ever again,” he stuttered, avoiding the boy’s eyes.  
  
“So you are going to kill her, just like that?” Jaejoong asked him with a very serious tone. Yunho looked up, surprised. He had been expecting anger, maybe even horror; but the boy was only looking at him with utmost sincerity.  
  
“Are you going to kill me too, just because I can’t walk? I can’t fly? What if I will never be able to?”  
  
Yunho wasn’t exactly sure if the boy was asking him seriously, or if it was a figurative question.  
  
“N-no, of course not!” he opposed quickly, looking at the boy that was still half-supporting himself up against the side of the bed. “I mean, you will be able to, for sure, you just need some time to heal, and proper rest, and food…”  
  
Yunho trailed off, the boy still looking him in the eye wordlessly. Yunho sighed, and then, carefully, he set the bird back down on the floor. It shrieked, immediately continuing its way towards the boy. As soon as it was within his reach, Jaejoong scooped the bird into his arms, cradling it against his naked chest, caressing its injured body.  
  
Yunho stared at the odd pair, a naked angel with a thick bandage over his shoulder, curled up on his bedside with a loud, injured seagull in his embrace. He carded his hands through his messy hair slowly before walking over to the sink. Silently, he filled a cup with cold water, walked over to his bed to set in on the floor next to the boy, and then, briskly, still dressed only in his boxers, walked out of the door to the chilly morning weather.  
  
The day was an average one, neither stormy nor calm; Yunho’s island was quite far into the sea, and there was never a day without wind. Sometimes it was strong enough to have him grappling for the handrails he had built next to most paths on the small rock; sometimes it was just a refreshing breeze. That morning, it was strong enough to make Yunho’s trawler rock up and down on the waves, clanking against the small concrete pier. It also brought a few droplets of seawater along with it, spattering Yunho’s face, making him not only smell but also feel the sea.  
  
He walked over to his small sauna, taking a small detour to check on the small corral behind it. As expected, the door of the cage was hanging open, clattering back and forth in the wind. He must have left it unlocked the night before; fortunately, the other bird inside had been just about ready to be released.  
  
He secured the door before entering the sauna, dipping his hand to the boiler. The water was lukewarm, but good enough for washing. His thighs were still grey from the oil he had gotten on himself while cleaning Jaejoong. Trying to push the ridiculous situation he had found himself in out of his mind, he started scrubbing himself furiously, concentrating on ridding his skin of the pollution. He rubbed until his skin was turning red and raw, only then noticing how agitated he was truly feeling. Sighing deeply, Yunho pulled on his shorts and started gathering the oily clothes he had left on the floor the day before, bracing himself for the trip back.  
  
When he heard a screeching wail, a cry of a seagull, he thought nothing of it; there were countless seagulls circling the sky over the lonely rock every day. Only when he noticed it was approaching him, like a bird was flying towards the sauna at an extremely slow speed, he sprinted out with the bunch of clothing in his arms. He could see it right from the front step, a lonely figure crawling on the ground towards him with a staggering seagull in tow.  
  
“What the hell do you think you are doing?!” he yelled, bolting towards the boy. The angel raised his head, and Yunho had to do a double take as a relieved smile spread through the boy’s face.  
  
“There you are!” he exclaimed cheerily, disregarding of the rough, damp rock underneath his belly. Yunho reached him in a few seconds, crouching down, hooking his fingers under the boy’s armpits to hoist him up. The boy’s arms wound around his neck as he hummed contently. The seagull stopped crying, strutting around Yunho’s feet, pecking his bare toes curiously.  
  
“What are you doing,” Yunho repeated, running his hands over the boy’s back, checking his temperature.  
  
“You didn’t come back so I thought maybe you had slipped on the rock, it can be very slippery you know,” Jaejoong started explaining as Yunho carried him back to the hut, “maybe you slipped and fell into the sea and no one would ever find you because I wasn’t there to drag you back up and then I would never reach the food cabinet, or the stove, and we would die of hunger.”  
  
Yunho almost gaped at the absurdity of the boy’s words. Him, slipping on the rock? Yunho wouldn’t slip on the rock even if it were a sixty-knot wind trying to wrench him from the ground. The idea of this boy, unable to even crawl on all fours let alone walk, rushing out to his help made absolutely no sense.  
  
“How were you thinking of hauling me up, huh?” was all Yunho could ask as he walked in and deposited the boy on his bed, dumping all his oily clothes on the floor.  
  
Jaejoong looked up thoughtfully, scrutinising the grey planks of the ceiling.  
  
“I didn’t get to that part yet,” he confessed, looking at Yunho brightly. “I figured I’d better find your drowning body first, it’s my job after all.”  
  
Yunho had started to dress himself, eyeing the naked boy with appraisingly.  
  
“First of all,” he said as he scoured his messy dresser for anything suitable, “I was only bathing.”  
  
“How could I have known,” Jaejoong defended himself as he caught the pair of underwear Yunho threw at him. He looked at it curiously, turning the piece of cloth in his hands. “You didn’t say a word to me when you walked out. For all I know, you could have taken off with your boat.”  
  
“Put it on,” Yunho commanded impatiently as he watched the boy play with the pair of boxers. He cleared his throat. “And I’m… I am sorry. I have lived alone so long… I— I don’t exactly remember how to be with other people.”  
  
Jaejoong slipped the loose underwear over his legs, pulling the shorts up.  
  
“Don’t worry,” he said, bright-eyed. “It’s not very difficult. You just have to think aloud.”  
  
Yunho threw the boy a belt and the smallest pair of thick trousers he could find, but as the boy dressed himself, they still pooled around his ankles.  
  
“What about your… You know, finding a top might be hard…”  
  
“My wings?” Jaejoong said, fluttering them a little. “I’ll take that one.”  
  
He pointed at the thick woollen jumper on the floor that Yunho had worn the day before.  
  
“That one? It’s dirty.”  
  
“It smelled good,” Jaejoong said, stubbornly.  
  
“It smells like oil now.”  
  
Yunho looked at Jaejoong who scrunched his brow as if putting his outmost effort into understanding something. He sighed, opening the utmost drawer and pulling out a jumper essentially identical to the one Jaejoong wanted. Yunho didn’t have many kinds of clothes; he got by with a few thick trousers, white undershirts and grey jumpers. There was no one around to dress up for; and most of the time, the rest of his clothes were covered with his raincoat and long rubber boots.  
  
He handed the jumper over, seeing Jaejoong’s eyes light up in delight.  
  
“Thank you, Yunho,” he said. “Could I have scissors, please?”  
  
Wordlessly, Yunho walked to another cabinet, picking up a pair of sturdy scissors before coming to the bed and sitting next to the boy. Jaejoong took the tool from him before unceremoniously cutting a large hole on the back of the jumper. He held the piece of clothing up, admiring his work before carefully folding up his wings against his body in order to slip the jumper on. Yunho didn’t miss the cringe it caused him, apparent pain racking the boy’s body as the coarse material slid over his damaged feathers.  
  
There it was, and it wasn’t even slightly better than before. Instead of a naked angel, Yunho now had an angel dressed in clothes a few numbers too big for him, with a ridiculous hole in his jumper, large wings sticking out of it. Deciding to just go with it, Yunho bent down, picking up the seagull strutting about his little hut and handed it over to Jaejoong. The boy accepted the bird with delight, stroking its white head with gentle fingers.  
  
“I’ll make you some porridge,” Yunho sighed, standing up.   


  
~0~0~0~

  
By the same evening, Jaejoong could move ahead on all fours; and it only took him a few days until he could walk. It was shaky, but it was walking nevertheless. Yunho had never guessed the handrails he had built would come in so handy, as the boy spent most of his day clinging to the ropes, staggering back and forth on the island with an equally unstable bird screeching at his feet. At first Yunho tried to offer the boy his rubber boots, but they had proved so large Jaejoong practically tripped up on the spot, face first. After that, Yunho had tried forcing at least woollen socks on the boy’s feet, but by the time he came back in, Jaejoong had lost them. After he had been relieved of three pairs of perfectly functional woollen socks, Yunho gave up, letting Jaejoong run around as he wished, barefoot.

Maybe it had something to do with his essence, Yunho mused. The boy cured very fast in every sense; his eyes were bright and had stopped running, his burn healing well, even his bruises faded fast. Most importantly, he seemed to remain completely unfazed by his condition, taking it as it was. His mood was never down, his bright, curious, sincere attitude shining through whenever he opened his mouth. Under a careful diet consisting chiefly of porridge and salted beef, occasionally also of fish, he even gained weight, his rice paper thin face filling out slightly until his cheekbones no longer stuck out. Even so, when Yunho helped him onto the topmost bench in the __sauna, he could notice the boy still weighed very little. It was strange, but Yunho had no choice but to write it off as another curious attribute of an angel.

The seagull was not as lucky; day after day, it remained on the ground, tottering after Jaejoong as the boy scoured the small rocky island. Jaejoong had preened its plumage thoroughly, making sure the poor bird could fold its wings properly to ease its walking. It was a wondrous thing to watch; Jaejoong truly seemed to know how feathers worked, how each one was supposed to be positioned. It took him barely ten minutes to get the bird in order, and before long, he had continued onto pluming his own wings. They were still scratchy and rugged, and even if the wounds had closed up cleanly, Jaejoong was still missing a lot of feathers. Even so, watching him perched on the edge of Yunho’s bed, grooming his wings with nimble fingers was quite the sight. When Jaejoong extended his wings fully out, he could easily cover his whole body underneath, hiding from Yunho’s gaze. The better Jaejoong’s physical condition had got, the more rapid the constantly on-going tremor of his wings had got, until it was almost a liquid-like ripple. It seemed as if Yunho could see Jaejoong’s heartbeat in his wings, a constant flow on energy streaming throughout them.

As soon as he found his feet again, Jaejoong took to spending his days outside. Fortunate for him, the weather remained clear enough, allowing him to walk from one corner of the island to another day after day. The rock was easily explored within one day, but it didn’t prevent Jaejoong from remaining as enthusiastic even after time. There wasn’t much to see, but Jaejoong seemed enthralled nevertheless. He had countless questions, ranging from the purpose of the concrete cistern built for harvesting rainwater, to the amount of birds Yunho had nursed back to functioning.

On his third day outside, Jaejoong found his way into the warehouse. It was by far the largest building on the small island, much bigger than Yunho’s little hut, let alone his tiny sauna. He had come up to Yunho excited, prattling away, tugging Yunho along with him. The boy had long gotten too fast for the slow waddle of the seagull, but the bird had somehow learnt to sit on Jaejoong’s shoulder. It looked like a ridiculous imitation of a parrot, webbed feet latching onto the angel’s woollen jumper for dear life.

Yunho had been dragged to the large sliding doors, and in a second Jaejoong had wrenched them open and snuck inside. Yunho followed after him, squinting to see in the dim room.

“What is all this?” Jaejoong asked him as he picked up a piece of scrap metal, inspecting its rusty surface with keen interest.

“The fruits of my labour,” Yunho answered him. He still had trouble keeping up a conversation. He had always talked to himself, as well as to the birds he took care of; but answering the questions of another person was not something he was exactly used to. Asking questions was even harder; consequently Yunho knew next to nothing about the curious creature keeping him company.

Jaejoong had ventured further inside between the tall piles of garbage, picking up objects and throwing them away one after another. The wide room was full of waste, heaps and heaps of rusty metal and plastic smelling of sea filling it from corner to corner. If one looked closely, they could see a carefully arranged order, broken nets in one pile, discarded bicycles in another.

“Careful of your feet now, you might step on something sharp,” Yunho warned the boy as he observed him hop over a pile of old car tires, bare feet treading over the constant layer of trash.

“I thought you were a fisherman,” Jaejoong stated, crouching down to pick up a bottomless soup can. He tried filling it with nails, mutters and other rubbish, only to watch them fall down from the other end.

“If there only was any fish in the sea,” Yunho sighed, kicking a red handleless plastic tub over. When he looked up, Jaejoong was standing up, facing him.

“No fish?” His face was contorted in a rather comical manner. “But you feed fish to Jyuni!”

“Jyuni?” Yunho repeated his words, confused. Jae simply nodded his head towards the seagull sitting his shoulder, eyes never leaving Yunho, eyebrows still quirked in a questioning manner. The bird was paying no heed to their conversation, turning its head in the dim room, observing their surroundings.

“Well…” Yunho started, unsure how to explain it to Jaejoong. “There is fish, just not a lot…”

Jaejoong’s face lit up.

“So you give the little you catch to the birds?” he finished for the fisherman who was scratching his neck awkwardly. “How kind of you, Yunho!”

“Well, you see Jaejoong, it isn’t exactly like that,” he tried, “it’s just that… With the oil, and the pollution… The few fish surviving are full of heavy metals and it’s not healthy to eat them too often… That’s why I only cooked you fish once since you came here.”

The way the smile on Jaejoong’s face faded made Yunho feel like an absolutely horrible person. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so worthless; not even the day he had been brought to the island. Back then, he had mostly felt wronged, furious; but taking a smile away from Jaejoong made him feel despicable. How evil did a person need to be in order to steal joy from an angel?

“There’s nothing else to give them, Jaejoong,” he tried saving the situation. “It’s what they would eat out at the sea, anyway.”

Jaejoong’s soft features were now filled with a deep sadness. He turned his neck to glance at the bird on his shoulder, sighing resignedly.

“Jyuni-yah...” he said, silently. “Can you eat something else but fish?”

The bird kept turning its head, releasing a short cry every now and then. Jaejoong looked at it wistfully before turning back to Yunho.

“Well, you all must die one day,” he stated in earnest, turning around to pick up a pair of half-rotten shoes, slipping his hands inside them before continuing further into the storage room.

Yunho was left speechless.  


  
~0~0~0~

  
“Tomorrow I am going out to the sea again,” Yunho told Jaejoong as they were lying down on Yunho’s bed that night. A full week had already gone past, and Yunho was severely behind with his quota. The inspector had visited just two weeks before Yunho had found Jaejoong tangled in his nets, so the next visit wasn’t due in another five weeks; but if Yunho didn’t get back to work soon, he wouldn’t have the required ton of trash to submit by the end of the cycle.

Jaejoong perked up from where he was lying on his stomach next to the wall. In the span of a few days he had developed a habit of not answering Yunho if he wanted to get more out of the man. The most efficient way was to purely stay quiet until the uncomfortable silence drove Yunho into speaking. Endless questions weren’t even nearly as effective.

“Have to get my trawler back in action,” he explained to the boy eyeing him expectantly. “I need to have a certain amount of trash collected when the inspector comes.”

Jaejoong hummed, studying the young man lying on his back next to him. Yunho stared back uncertainly, not really knowing what the other was expecting from him. He cleared his throat.

“So,” he started, “will you be alright here alone?”

“Can I bring Jyuni’s box inside?” Jaejoong answered his question with another one. “If she’s going to die, I want to be with her as much as possible.”

Yunho blinked, trying to follow the jumping conversation.

“I guess you can,” he answered hesitantly. He had already spent a few moments cleaning the seagull’s poop from the grey flooring; what would a few times more do.

Yunho turned over to lie on his stomach, staring at the boy situated between him and the wall.

“It… She’s not going to die though,” he continued, half talking into the pillow, “or well, she is, but not like that… The birds are better with the poisons than us.”

“Us? You and me?”

“Well… Us humans.”

“Huh.”

Jaejoong lowered himself back down. They were now both lying on their stomachs, facing each other, Jaejoong with his wings curled against his back. There was a brief moment of silence before Jaejoong broke it, speaking into the narrow space between their faces.

“Let’s play a game,” he suggested.

Yunho had long given up trying to figure Jaejoong out.

“What kind of game?” he inquired compliantly.

“I ask you a question, then you ask me one,” Jaejoong explained, his tone of voice as earnest and serious as always.

“Alright,” Yunho agreed. “You start.”

Jaejoong studied him for a moment again before opening his mouth.

“Why are you here?”

“Oh,” Yunho started, “well, they needed to position someone on this lonely rock… Territorial disputes and all that jazz. I don’t know if this place is really ours, but as long as they can claim there are our nationals living in here it’ll make their claim more plausible.”

Yunho snorted.

“That’s what they told me when they brought me here, at least,” he said. “I’m telling you; you could search for a faker settlement your whole lifetime and never find one. I was born on a mountain, for Christ’s sake! Aboriginal inhabitant my ass.”

To Yunho’s utmost surprise, Jaejoong released an amused chuckle. The boy rarely displayed any negative emotions, but it didn’t necessarily mean he was all laughter either. Most of the time he was bright and curious, but strangely solemn at the same time. His spectre of emotions seemed to work quite differently from humans, not that Yunho was exactly an expert of human emotions either.

There was yet another pause before Jaejoong spoke up again.

“Your turn,” he prompted carefully. Yunho brought a hand up to rub his temples as he tried to come up with something to ask. It wasn’t as if there was nothing; Jaejoong was a plenty curious creature. Yunho just simply wasn’t used to asking others about themselves.

“Why are you so light? You weigh practically nothing,” he blurted out the first thing that entered his mind. Jaejoong’s lips curled into an easy smile.

“Hollow bones,” he answered. “Like birds. And light musculature.”

Jaejoong wasted no time in asking his next question.

“Why are you here?” he repeated his earlier words, accompanied with a finger pointed at Yunho’s face.

“You asked that already,” Yunho reminded him.

“And you told me why there is _someone_ here. You didn’t tell me why _you_ are here.”

“Oh,” Yunho realised the truth in Jaejoong’s words. He pressed the heel of his hand against his eye, dragging the full palm over his face.

“It’s a… It’s a punishment,” he explained.

Jaejoong observed him wordlessly, as he always did. But this time it made Yunho feel not just a little restless, but deeply and all too familiarly anxious.

It was a thing Yunho tried to think of as little as he could manage. He had been living on the island for so many years he hardly bothered counting anymore; it hardly helped to wallow in the misfortunes of past. For the last years it had been easy. Ever since Yunho had started taking care of the birds, it was easier to direct his thoughts where he wanted to, concentrating on whatever task was at hand. The endless hours at the sea, he would think of what was waiting for him at home; at home, he would busy himself with the birds and their needs, no matter how trivial they were.

Breathing in deeply, Yunho released a shaky exhalation, the force he was using to keep it slow and calm making his body tremble with each escaping puff of air.

“Guilty by association,” he said. “Collateral damage, if you will.”

Sensing the other’s discomfort, Jaejoong suddenly reached his hand out, placing his palm flat between Yunho’s shoulder blades. Yunho was expecting a comforting pat, maybe accompanied with a quick rub; but Jaejoong merely rested his hand there, warmth seeping into Yunho’s skin through his thin t-shirt.

Jaejoong shifted even closer, opening his mouth; but instead of posing further questions, he started to sing. It was a song with a story; a story of a sunray and a goblin, how the other lived in sunlight and the other lived in darkness and how they could never meet each other. His voice was breathy, barely above a whisper, and Yunho closed his eyes, letting the melody lull him into a peaceful state somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. When Jaejoong’s song finished, Yunho didn’t open his eyes, frowning softly as he tried to put his emotions into words.

“It’s just, despite what happened… I miss them so much,” he managed to mutter, and Jaejoong pressed his palm firmer against Yunho’s back.

“I’m sure your family is not suffering anymore,” he hummed, his voice almost like the comforting purr the angel had used on the injured seagull the morning when Yunho had almost killed Jaejoong’s little sidekick. Yunho didn’t even stop to think about why Jaejoong had known it was his family that was the cause behind his fall; he just accepted the comfort without questions.

“But what if… What if they don’t deserve that?” Yunho asked, hasty to get his anguished thoughts out before his brain could catch up and force his mouth shut again. He still didn’t dare to open his eyes.

“All can be forgiven,” was all Jaejoong said, and then Yunho could feel a faint press of the boy’s mouth on his eyelid. Jaejoong smoothed his lips over his other eye as well before laying his head down, close to Yunho. They fell asleep breathing each other in, Jaejoong’s palm pressed flat between Yunho’s shoulder blades, grounding him down on the little rock in the middle of endless sea.  


  
~0~0~0~

  
The next morning, Yunho woke up far before sunrise as he normally would any day was going out to the sea. Jaejoong was still asleep, curled up between the length of Yunho’s body and the grey wall.

For the very first time since he had come to the island, Yunho actually wanted to forget all about getting up and going to work; instead, he wished he could continue lying on the bed. It was a strange feeling. Usually, he took what little enjoyment he could from moving around. His island was so small it was easy to feel almost claustrophobic despite the vast sky and sea opening into every direction.

He turned on his side, looking at Jaejoong. The boy was laying on his stomach as usual, cheek pressed against his pillow, face half-hidden from Yunho’s vision. Jaejoong always slept in the same position; Yunho assumed it was because of his wings.

Making a conscious effort, Yunho wrenched himself up, slipping out from underneath the blankets. He ran his hands over his face tiredly before standing up and walking over to the fridge to take out a mug of cold coffee. Chucking it down, he dressed up quickly and stepped outside before he could change his mind.

The day went past in a blur. More than not, Yunho kept thinking of Jaejoong, wondering how the boy was faring by himself; if he had managed to re-heat the barley porridge Yunho had cooked him the day before, or if he ate it cold. Yunho if anyone knew how nasty cold porridge could be.

When he finally thought he was ready to go home, the trawler’s deck already filled with a mountain of trash, he remembered the nets he’d left floating in the sea close to the island the day he’d found Jaejoong.

When he steered his boat here, the sight that confronted him was even sadder than he had expected. Yunho closed his eyes and thought of Jaejoong. It was all he could do if he didn’t want to break every single window on the boat and throw all movables overboard.

It took him four minutes to calm down enough so that he was able to uncurl his tense fists. His fingers hurt from the force he had used to fist his hands, and it took him another two minutes before he was able to grasp or hold anything.

When he came back home, Jaejoong was waiting for him on the pier, sitting on it with his legs dangling down. He was swinging them back and forth to the rhythm of his quiet humming, face tilted back to enjoy a rare appearance of sun on his face. Jyuni was standing beside him, leisurely pecking something on the boards. When Yunho’s trawler came close enough, it looked up, letting out a strident wail. Jaejoong smiled, jumping up to receive the ropes that Yunho threw down at him. Swiftly, he wound it around a bollard, and normally, Yunho would have been amused by the way he carelessly left it without any knot, as if the loosely wound up rope was enough to keep the trawler in place. However, right now he was only feverishly trying to think of a gentle manner to break down the situation to Jaejoong.

He came to the conclusion that there was no gentle manner.

With heavy feet and an even heavier heart, he walked back to his Styrofoam box, bending down to pick up one of the birds that had died of dehydration and infections, tangled in his gillnets. He had completely forgotten about them for a whole week, and he was paying bitterly for his mistake now.

As soon as he came back to the edge, the smile on Jaejoong’s face was swept out. Yunho could only watch helplessly as tears started forming in his eyes, but the boy quickly brushed them off and stretched out his hands to take the bird from Yunho. Wordlessly, he cradled the dead bird against his chest, stroking its oily feathers. His eyes were fixed on the bird as he said, “He’s not the only one, is he?”

Yunho swallowed.

“No,” he answered taking a few steps back to lift the whole Styrofoam box were he had piled all the small, fragile corpses he had fished out from the sea. There were a dozen of them, each as dirty and pitiable as the previous one. The box was quite heavy, but after having manoeuvred himself to the pier with Jaejoong attached to his front, hopping down was a cinch.

Jaejoong immediately came to his side, peering down into the box. Yunho could almost feel the pure sadness emanating from the angel as his wings spread out, carefully encircling Yunho and the box. His head was bowed and he clutched the bird in his arms even tighter when he saw how many there were.

They brought the box up to the highest point of the rock, and when Yunho put the box down, Jaejoong quickly sat next to it, laying down the dead bird he had been carrying. He smoothed his hand over the spoiled feather coat, from head to tail, careful of the bird’s small, beady eyes. Jyuni, who had been waddling behind them, hopped closer, eyeing the dead bird curiously. Jaejoong quickly picked it up and placed it on his shoulder.

One by one, Jaejoong started lifting the dead birds out of the Styrofoam box. Most of them were seagulls, but there was a gannet too, twice the size of the others. Yunho stood back, watching as Jaejoong arranged all of them on the rock next to each other, stroking each one of them. By the end of it, his tears had fallen free, streaming down his thin cheeks as he sat there sniffling.

Yunho was standing at a few metres distance, feeling his own throat contracting painfully as he watched Jaejoong weep over the dead birds. Clearing his throat, he felt increasingly frustrated, a familiar anxiety of wanting to just do something, anything, but not knowing if there was anything at all to do.

“I’m— I’m so sorry—” he started, only to be cut off by Jaejoong who looked up at him, lips curling up into a faint smile despite his tears. He spared the birds one more glance before standing up and walking over to Yunho. His fingers reached for Yunho’s hand, circling it softly as he took it between his palms.

“Don’t apologise,” he said simply. “Why are you apologising?”

Jaejoong was still sniffling, clinging onto Yunho’s hand, but his eyes were on Yunho’s face, gentle and earnest. The way he expressed his sadness was something very foreign to Yunho. Jaejoong had let his tears flow without a second thought.

“Well, it’s my…my fault,” Yunho said tersely, unable to imitate Jaejoong’s natural manner of grieving.

“Yunho,” Jaejoong said seriously, wiping his face. “It’s not your fault.”

“But I left the nets there, unattended for such a long time, and—”

“And no birds would have gotten caught in them, were they not oily in the first place,” Jaejoong continued for him, his smile gone as he stared at Yunho. “Right?”

Yunho just looked aside, unable to answer, but he didn’t pull his hand away. Jaejoong shifted just a little bit closer, laying his head against Yunho’s shoulder. They stood there for a moment in silence, until Yunho was able to look at the carefully arranged birds again.

“I will build a bonfire,” he said suddenly, a newfound determination in his voice. “A big one.”

“That sounds like a great idea,” Jaejoong agreed. “What’s a bonfire?”

Yunho turned to look at him, a little confused by the question. Why would he agree if he had no idea what Yunho was talking about?

“To…to give them a decent passing,” he explained, a bit baffled. “A big fire.”

“That sounds like a great idea,” Jaejoong repeated and smiled at Yunho again. The other blinked, not sure what to do.

“We should wash the corpses first,” he suggested, taking a step closer to the dead birds, but Jaejoong tugged him back by the hand he was holding.

“No,” he said when Yunho turned around to look at him. “We should burn the oil too. Shouldn’t let it seep back into the soil.”

Yunho agreed, and they left the birds on the rock as they made their way to Yunho’s big warehouse, hand in hand. It was always dim and damp inside, but Yunho didn’t lead Jaejoong far from the big door that provided them some sunlight. In the next corner, there lay an old wooden rowing boat; worn out and cracked.

“We’ll burn this one,” Yunho announced to no one in particular, still feeling awkward about looking Jaejoong in the eye when he spoke. “I’ve been saving it for something special. Didn’t hand it out in my quota for years.”

“Decent passing,” Jaejoong mused next to him. “I see.”

Promptly walking around it, he started pushing before Yunho could say a word. It was quite the sight; a scrawny, short figure trying to move a big rowing boat. However, to Yunho’s great surprise, he actually managed to inch it forward even Yunho had even lain a finger on it. It almost made him smile.

Together, they dragged the boat uphill until it was on the very top. Jaejoong arranged the birds inside, hopping in and out in a very dangerous-looking manner, Yunho’s heart leaping in his chest when the boat rocked back and forth under his movement. In the end he settled for holding the edge of the boat to keep it steady; despite Jaejoong’s rapid healing, Yunho didn’t need another portion of a crawling Jaejoong if he happened to break both of his legs.

They brought out a few more wooden things from the warehouse, and for a finishing touch Yunho tucked some paper underneath the whole structure. Finally, they were standing next to the pile of wood, work finished. Jaejoong had taken Jyuni off his shoulder and was carefully cradling the seagull to his chest, keeping its head in place.

“Do you want to light it,” Yunho asked, drawing out a matchbox from his front pocket. He took one out and placed it behind his ear before offering the pack to Jaejoong. The angel eyed it unconfidently before his eyes trailed up to Yunho.

“Don’t worry, I’ll talk you through it,” Yunho assured him, opening the box again to reveal the matches. “Take one and scratch it here—yeah, on the side—and hold it burning end up so that you won’t burn your fingers before you reach the paper.”

First, Jaejoong took Jyuni off his shoulder, transferring it onto Yunho’s. Then, following Yunho’s instructions, Jaejoong lit the match, staring at the small, fluttering flame with wonder for a slip second before stepping closer to the boat. Sheltering it carefully with his other hand, he crouched down before sticking the match into the paper. It caught fire eagerly, curling up under the all-consuming flame.

“It won’t catch fire from just one match,” Yunho warned him, a little distracted by the slight weight of the bird on his shoulder. Jaejoong stood up from his crouching position, taking a few steps backwards until he was standing next to Yunho again, his eyes never leaving the fire.

They stood there silently for a moment, and to Yunho’s great surprise the fire didn’t die out. Instead, it quickly ate all of the paper Yunho had placed in the pile, promptly continuing onto the slighter wooden rubbish. In just a few minutes, the boat was aflame as well, its edges blazing.

“I’ve never destroyed something before,” Jaejoong said with wonder, and when Yunho looked at him he could see the warm orange of the bonfire reflecting in his black eyes. He tensed, the bird on his shoulder feeling it under its feet and letting out a sharp cry.

“Sometimes…it just feels…good,” he said, for lack of a better word, and looked aside again.

“I bet,” Jaejoong said. “But a lot of things can feel good.”

When the fire reached the oily birds placed inside the boat and the smoke turned black, Jaejoong started tearing up again. Jyuni cried out in sympathy, and Jaejoong looked up at it, water shimmering in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry Jyuni,” he apologised, “you’re the one that needs consolation here, aren’t you?”

He coaxed to bird to step on his arm before sitting down on the very spot. He placed the seagull on his lap, nimble fingers stroking the nervous bird. Tears were still dripping down his cheeks, falling over the bird and his crossed legs.

Yunho watched him pretend to be comforting the bird when he was really comforting himself. Finally he sat down as well next to Jaejoong, only to lie down on his back immediately. He stared up at the sky, partially darkened by a cloud of back smoke that didn’t seem to be dissipating. The day was unusually windless, and they had even gotten some sun. An extraordinary day at the high seas, during the particular season.

Jaejoong didn’t stop cooing at the bird on his lap, and slowly Yunho relaxed to the sound of his throaty voice and sniffling. He turned on his side, and before he knew it, he had curled his body up around Jaejoong’s sitting figure. He brought his arms up to circle the boy’s middle and buried his face onto his hip.

“Can animals go to heaven, Jaejoong-ah?” he asked, voice mumbled by the fabric of Jaejoong’s coarse jumper.

“There is no heaven, Yunho-yah,” the other answered him calmly. “That’s why you have to make the most of your time here.”


	3. Chapter 3

  
After the dead birds, days went by quickly; but what was different compared to Yunho’s previous life, was that they weren’t all alike anymore.  
  
Every morning, he left the island before Jaejoong woke up, working hard on his trawler to make up for the week of work he had missed after he had found Jaejoong. He took the habit of going through all the trash he collected, and if he found something especially nice or interesting, he would set it aside for later. He checked his gillnets next to the island devotedly, and carefully took home every bird he found injured and oily. There were only a few, plus the occasional ones that they found on the shores of the small island; there was always at least one bird in the small corral behind Yunho’s sauna. As for Jyuni, Jaejoong had brought its box inside the hut as planned, and the small seagull now slept under its yellow blanket in the corner next to the bed.  
  
Every evening, when he came home, Jaejoong was waiting for him, standing barefoot on the pier, Jyuni on his shoulder. Everyday, he helped Yunho bring all the new trash to the warehouse, with a help of an old, wobbly wheelbarrow.  
  
One day, he brought Jaejoong a marble. They boy had studied at the colourful glass ball intensely, and at night, he had placed it carefully in Jyuni’s box. In case she was missing having her own children, he had said. Another day, Yunho came back with a huge chest freezer. Jaejoong was adamant on bringing it to the corral and making it the new bed for the birds; in the end, they dragged it behind the sauna before realising they could never fit it in through the corral door.  
  
Eventually, they ended up sleeping one night outside, lying in the chest freezer together, just there right behind the sauna. The freezer was barely large enough for one person, and it started drizzling in the middle of the night, but Yunho had never had such sweet dreams before. The next day, after Yunho came back from his day’s work, they finally dragged the chest freezer to the warehouse alongside the trash of the day.  
  
The rest of the day they spent sitting side by side at the waterfront, mending Yunho’s gillnets that were full of holes created by hysterical birds. It was mechanic but concentration-demanding work, and they spent the evening in comfortable silence.  
  
Jaejoong fell asleep on the rock, fingers twisted in the cords of the net, and it took Yunho five minutes to free his hands before he could carry the drowsy angel back inside the hut.  


  
~0~0~0~

  
A few weeks later, Yunho came home with a true treasure. It was a snow-globe, old and dirty, and Yunho couldn’t really even see inside; but he recognised the shape immediately. His mother had had one, sitting on the windowsill of their second room. That one had had a miniature garden inside, finished with a Western style mansion. The snow had been golden and glittery; Yunho would shake the snow-globe when his mother wasn’t looking and watch the shimmering snow envelope the small landscape. He had never seen a house like that for real, but he would always imagine what it would be like inside, if there were beds and chandeliers and other things he had vaguely heard about but didn’t really know what they were.

The first time ever Yunho slept in a bed was quite different from what he had imagined as a child. A small bunk, situated in a hut on a little island in the middle of the sea.

Even with the filthy layer of silt and oil, Jaejoong took immediate interest in his new find.

“What is it?” he asked eagerly as soon as Yunho dropped the item in his hand. He peered at the object, turning it around and around.

“There’s a world inside,” Yunho answered him. “Only we can’t see it, now that it’s dirty.”

“The sauna!” Jaejoong exclaimed, grabbing Yunho’s shirt to pull him along.

In a minute, they were sitting on the front steps of the sauna, the now cleaned snow-globe cradled in Jaejoong hands.

“You have to shake it,” Yunho prompted, watching as the angel carefully did as he’s instructed. A puff of white and silver glimmered through the globe, revealing a mountain scenery underneath before covering everything in artificial snow once again.

“Wow,” was all Jaejoong whispered. His eyes were wide, and with the added endless, black depth, they seemed larger than the sea itself.

Yunho watched him shake the snow-globe repeatedly for a while before he opened his mouth.

“It’s a mountain,” he said.

“A mountain,” Jaejoong mused. “You were born on a mountain.”

“Yep,” Yunho agreed.

“On this mountain?”

“No,” he said, “that’s an artificial mountain. I was born on a real one, a big one. Southeastern sector zone 4, on the highest mountain around.”

Jaejoong’s eyes snapped to him.

“Huh?” he said, completely lost.

Yunho averted his eyes.

“Nothing, don’t mind me,” he said, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin on palm. Suddenly a hand snuck in underneath his arm and fingers curled around his bicep. Jaejoong shifted closer, until his head bumped to Yunho’s shoulder.

“Tell me about your mountain,” he suggested quietly.

“Is this a game again?” Yunho asked him, sighing heavily.

“No,” Jaejoong answered, “it’s you telling me about yourself.”

Yunho hesitated for a moment, but the familiar warmth of Jaejoong against his side seemed to make the decision that much easier to make.

“I was… My family was designated as trash pickers,” he started slowly. “Living up on the mountain. Not much food up there, all the little rice they grow is on the lowlands.”

Jaejoong hummed, tightening his fingers around Yunho’s arm in an encouraging gesture.

“Well, my father wasn’t a trash picker,” Yunho corrected himself. “He only came home every two months. They had picked my mother for him, at random I guess… And every two months he had the right to come visit her. I don’t know if he really wanted to come. I know my mother did not care.”

Once he had opened his mouth, it all started pouring out with a force he could have never predicted. It was as if his body was in an intense hurry to release all the things he had carried inside for the better part of a decade.

“I don’t even know what it was that he did. I just know he didn’t pick trash with us, and that he was much fatter than any of us… Not that you’d have to be very fat to have been fatter than us. I think I once survived the whole year on chestnuts and tree bark.”

“I had an older brother too, he was much older than me, by ten years or so… I don’t know his name. I ever only called him older brother… My mother just called him son.”

“When I was still small, my mom would just cook me a bowl of porridge in the morning before she left for work… She told me to eat it right away or wait until I was starving, that it was my own choice. And sometimes when I was really hungry I’d just eat the porridge right away, but after a few hours I would be starving again… And then I would eat the portion my mom had prepared for herself for the evening when she came back from work.”

“When she came home and found her bowl empty, she just looked at me. She didn’t say a word, and I wished so badly she would hit me just once—but she never did. She just looked at me, and didn’t say a word for the rest of the evening.”

“And usually after I had to sleep, my brother would come home, and they would stay in the other room talking, and I knew my mother had made him an extra bowl of porridge and I would sit in behind the door, peering from the crack, watch him eat and listen to the conversations they had… I did it for years. They never caught me.”

Yunho hung his head, rubbing his palm over his eyes tiredly.

“Not even once did it occur to them to check on the sleeping little brother.”

“And one night, I heard them talk about it… How it would be, living in the lowlands, even as just a scrounger. How even the beggars there had rice. And from that very instance I knew they were a bit too eager. I knew they were going to do it…they were going to flee.”

“Night after night I sat there behind the door, watching my brother eat and listening to my brother and mother talk about it, and observing how their plans slowly formed… My brother started staying away longer and longer, and I knew he was exploring the downhill, checking out the electric fence. He was determining where would be the best spot to execute their plans.”

“And day after day I listened to their discussion, but not once did they mention their plans to me… Not once did they ask me to come with them. And I was terrified; I thought they were going to be caught, and they would be killed, and I would be killed, and my father would be killed. I didn’t know what to do…”

Yunho stopped there, leaning forwards to rest his upper body completely against his legs. For a moment it had been like whitewater flowing past his lips, but now the knot was coming back, and it was forming in his throat bigger than ever. He could feel his stomach tensing up; there would be only a moment before it would force him to curl into a full foetal position.

And when Jaejoong’s hand left his arm, Yunho thought he would choke, his chest refusing to expand to allow in any air, his throat refusing to dilate.

But Jaejoong’s hand was soon back, pressing down in between his shoulder blades, soothing his back that was quivering from the tension. Jaejoong had leant forwards as well, nosing his shoulder, trying to find his way to the junction between Yunho’s stiff shoulder and tensed neck. He was making a sound, not necessarily saying anything or even humming; it was something made just for the sake of making a sound.

Jaejoong’s hand resting on his back, Yunho slowly gained control over his juddering body.

“It was—,” it took him a lot of effort to get the rest of the words out. “I felt so helpless and so—so confused, everything was so jumbled up—”

His shoulders loosened up slightly, and Jaejoong finally managed to get his mouth against the jumping pulse on his neck.

“And my father came home—he came, and I told him about my mother and my brother, I wanted him to talk them out of that ridiculous, doomed plan—and he just petted my hair, he had never petted my hair before, I don’t know if he had ever even really looked at me—”

Jaejoong’s hand was so intense on his back that Yunho felt like it would push in right through his spine if Jaejoong pressed it down any more forcefully, but the mouth on his neck was warm and moist and calm.

“And then—a few days later—he had ratted them out—I don’t know, they took them both, I don’t know why, they killed him too…They killed them all.”

“They didn’t kill me, I think they didn’t think I knew anything about it… So they settled for a lighter punishment. Despite the fact that what my family had done was definitely and without exception punishable by death.”

There was a moment of silence as Yunho calmed his agitated breathing, but it didn’t last long.

“And it was all my fault!” he then cried out suddenly. “There I was, thinking that they were betraying me… But it was me who betrayed them all! Me!”

“Shh,” Jaejoong interrupted him for the first time since he had started telling his story, whispering the words into the skin underneath his jaw. “Yunho-yah, listen to me. It was not your fault. You were just a boy.”

“Yes it was, if I had just kept my mouth shut my father would have never—maybe my mother and brother could have actually managed to—”

“No!” Jaejoong exclaimed a bit louder. “No! Listen to me! It was not your fault! Look at me!”

With a strange kind of strength he wrenched Yunho’s head away from his hands and cradled it it between his own palms. Only then did Yunho notice that all he could see was the powerful ripple of Jaejoong’s white wings all around him. He was sheltered inside, hidden away from everything around them, in a space so small it could only accommodate him, and Jaejoong.

Jaejoong’s eyes were as wide as when he had been looking at the snow-globe, but the depth had just increased, and his eyes were so black, in great contrast to the whiteness surrounding them on all sides. But the blackness was not cold and dark like a black hole; it was warm, and understanding, and determined.

“Yunho-yah,” the angel said, eyes fixed on Yunho’s. “It was not your fault, and your family feels no bitterness towards you. It is only you who can forgive yourself, and only you who can forgive your family. They are not here anymore, Yunho, nor can they come back.”

And inside himself Yunho knew that it was him who was bitter. The reason why he had to live alone at the high seas with no chance of better life for the rest of his days was the crime his family had committed. He had just never known where to begin; whether he should have forgiven himself first, or his family. It was all one muddle of fading memories and feelings, all so mixed up together he could hardly differentiate between any of them anymore.

But what he was sure of was the warmth of Jaejoong’s palms against his cheeks and the whiteness of his wings around him. And when Jaejoong closed the distance between their mouths, breathing new air into his collapsed lungs, he let him.  


  
~0~0~0~

The day came as a total surprise to Yunho. He guessed he should have known to expect it, taking into account how fast Jaejoong’s legs had cured weeks earlier. Even so, despite the permanent presence of the wings, Yunho had never actually imagined Jaejoong using them.

It was a Sunday, and ever since Jaejoong had come along Yunho had taken on the habit of not working on Sundays. Previously, he had used to work weeks through, paying little attention to even holidays even though he had a calendar on the wall of the hut, which he used to strictly keep track of time.

That Sunday they had planned to go visit another little rock that lied a few kilometres away from them, the one Yunho usually set his nets next to. It was even smaller and barer than the island they lived on. It would be the first time Jaejoong had ever ventured outside Yunho’s island ever since he had first come.

Jaejoong was already standing on the pier, at the very end of it, Jyuni at his feet. He was facing the sea when Yunho strolled down the little path from the hut. His wings were folded only halfway, and as Yunho neared the pier, they were already lifting and widening, opening up to their full width. The sight blew Yunho away every time; the way his wings pulsed, surges of energy wrecking through them until the very tips of his primary feathers.

Then, just as Yunho’s foot met the concrete surface of the pier, Jaejoong looked over his shoulder, his face lightened up by a delighted smile.

Yunho instantly knew what was going to happen. He let everything he had been carrying drop on the ground as he charged forward. Jaejoong’s wings were now spread open to their maximum wingspan, and Yunho had barely enough time to take two running steps before they were beating up and down. Then, defying all laws of gravity, Jaejoong’s svelte body ascended, his speed gradually increasing.

“No no no no no Jaejoong, _no_!” Yunho shouted, running towards the end of the pier where the angel had taken wing, already out of his reach. “No no no no don’t go! Don’t go! No no don’t leave me! Please! Jaejoong _please_!”

Desperation seeping into his voice, he was barely able to stop his momentum before he sprinted right off the pier into the sea. Jyuni was standing right there, strutting around in a fidgety, unsettled way as it cried after its companion. It stepped back and forth on the edge of the pier, trying to spread its wings as well, upset by having been left behind in such a manner.

Yunho hardly paid attention to the distressed seagull as he slumped on the edge of the pier, staring after the angel who was still soaring, his speed so great he was barely a small, white bird on the sky.

“Jaejoong, please…! Jaejoong…!” he shouted for the last time before letting his head hang down. “No no no…” he spoke to himself, staring at the restless waves underneath himself. “This is not happening…”

Jyuni cried out one more time before suddenly surging forward, wings spread as it tried to take flight as well. The first wingstrokes were a bit flabby, but it soon gained stability, crying out as it rose up with the wind, flying for the first time in five weeks.

Yunho didn’t even look after the bird that was never supposed to fly again, now leaving him as well. His brain was not digesting what was happening, he felt like everything was happening in slow motion, as if someone had suddenly transferred his world into a small snow-globe and then filled it with jelly.

He felt tears spring into his eyes, bursting over onto his cheeks in an instant. Cradling his head between his hands, he shook it from side to side, trying to force the horrible truth out of his mind.

“No no no I can’t do this I can’t…” he kept saying, shaking himself.

Until someone wrenched his hands off his face, forcing him to bend his neck back and face up.

“Yunho! Are you crying?!” a familiar voice exclaimed, horrified. Slight fingers were soon wiping his cheeks, but now that the dam had broken, there was no stopping the tears.

“Don’t leave me Jaejoong, don’t leave me,” he cried out, instantly latching onto the boy who had quickly dropped himself on his knees next to him on the pier. “I can’t live here alone anymore, I can’t, please I beg of you, don’t go… Don’t leave me…”

“Shh, it’s okay Yunho, who said I was going anywhere,” the angel whispered into his ear, his body pulled so close that it looked as if Yunho was trying to melt the angel right into his own body. “I’m right here.”

“I don’t want to be alone anymore,” Yunho continued crying regardless of the other’s reassurances.

“You won’t have to, I am here now, aren’t I?” Jaejoong swallowed. “Please stop crying, otherwise I am going to cry too,” he begged the man who was hugging him impossibly close.

“Please don’t ever leave me, I cannot live alone anymore, I can’t stand it,” he wept, burying his face onto Jaejoong’s neck.

There were tears in the angel’s voice when he answered.

“Why do you think I came here, Yunho? You were not created to live your life alone. I’m here now, here for you.”

The words finally let Yunho halt his begging, but he remained clinging onto the boy, tears seeping onto Jaejoong’s coarse woollen jumper. The other just continued shushing him, petting his back carefully until he finally calmed down a bit.

When Yunho was finally calm enough for them to rearrange themselves more comfortably, they sat on the edge of pier, legs dangling down, still halfway in each other embrace. Jaejoong let Yunho lean into him and stroked his hair as the other took a few, deep breaths to stabilise his breathing once and for all.

“Wow…” Jaejoong said, wiping the man’s face with his other hand again. “Wow, Yunho. Wow.”

His words made Yunho chuckle slightly, and he brought his own hand up to wipe his face as well.

“I know,” he said. “I don’t think I have ever cried, not after the day I turned five.”

Jaejoong hugged his head close to himself, burying his nose into Yunho’s hair.

“I’m so sorry,” he exhaled, “I just… I suddenly noticed my wings were… the injuries had… they were perfect again… And I couldn’t, I can’t withstand that feeling. I had to fly.”

Yunho sniffled, sitting up straight as he ruffled his hair and smoothened out his jumper. Jaejoong let him fix his appearance and collect himself, politely putting a few centimetres between them. Following Yunho’s example, he curled his wings in front of him, starting to go through the feathers he had just used for the first time in long weeks. His fingers slid through the feather coat like a knife through butter; it was almost magical how they settled down in correct order so quickly, after just having been ruffled by the wind.

Yunho soon found himself staring again, just like that one time when Jaejoong had groomed his plumage inside the hut. There was something terribly intimate about the act.

The boy soon noticed him staring, and he flashed Yunho an affectionate smile.

“Do you want to try?” he asked the man. Yunho’s mouth fell open.

“I w-wouldn’t… I don’t know what to…” he stuttered, taken aback by the sudden suggestion.

“You are an expert of cleaning birds, Yunho,” the angel reminded him amusedly. “It’s just the same; my wings are just a bit larger.”

Not listening to any refusals Yunho might have whipped out, Jaejoong swiftly turned around so that his wide, quivering wings were spread out right in front of Yunho.

Glancing around as if there was someone who could catch him in the act, Yunho hesitantly reached his hand towards Jaejoong’s back. Through the hole in his jumper, Yunho could see the angel’s shoulder blades where his wing bones extended outwards, and the small feathers in between his wings that continued downwards alongside his spine.

Imitating Jaejoong’s usual calming gesture, he pressed his full palm onto the down between the boy’s shoulder blades. The boy gasped, his back arching as he shied away from the touch. Insistently, Yunho pressed in more, feeling the boy’s back tremble underneath his touch.

“I have never… never seen anything so beautiful,” he whispered in a trance, bringing up his other hand to slide his fingers gently over the junction where Jaejoong’s wings attached to his body. He continued gliding them along the edge of the wing, feeling each small bump of the wing bones underneath his fingertips. The wings pulsed; it seemed like Jaejoong had to use some willpower to keep them from folding up.

As gently as he ever could, Yunho began to go through each line of feathers, starting from the very tips. Everything felt so soft, but there was also a certain kind of firmness to the long primary feathers. Soon enough, Jaejoong was openly purring, a larger wave of shivers racking his body every now and then as he moaned aloud.

When Yunho had made his way all the way through the wing as well as the other one, the boy’s body had curled up, knees pulled against his chest. Carefully, Yunho grabbed Jaejoong’s shoulder to turn him around so that he could see his face again.

“I’m sorry,” he apologised embarrassedly as soon as he could see the strange, barely contained expression on Jaejoong’s face. “I said I wouldn’t know what to do… I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

The boy shivered again, slowly setting his legs down to dangle over the edge of the pier again.

“No, no… I liked it,” he answered the man quickly. “It’s just… I am not used to anyone else but myself touching them like that.”

He looked forward, and Yunho followed his gaze out to the sea opening in front of them; a normal, windy day, grey sea and grey skies.

It was depressing at first glance, but it was what he was used to.

“You know… Maybe…just maybe it’s not so bad out here,” he huffed suddenly.

“Huh.”

“I mean… Maybe it wasn’t so bad to end up out here,” Yunho tried to reformulate his thought, but it still didn’t sound right. “If you’re with me.”

“Yunho…” Jaejoong sighed from his side. “Are you trying to tell me you have forgiven your family?”

Yunho mused the boy’s words over, tasting them in his mouth, letting them run through his swelled up throat.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s what I’m saying.”

Jaejoong smiled at him before letting his head rest on Yunho’s shoulder, wings curling around them both.

“Good.”  


  
~0~0~0~

He really hated those days. He had never liked his job too much, but the days when he had to travel to that godforsaken rock in the middle of the sea were the ones that made him really consider quitting his job in the southeastern sector and moving back up north.

He would never visit a single day earlier than the required 56 days after his previous visit. The boat trip took him roughly six hours, but not once had he spent the night on the island. He would wake up as early as needed if it meant he would never have to sleep overnight in the pathetic, tiny hut that had been built on the island for the inmate.

He had to admit that the man had done his very best with what little the rock had to offer. He had built other buildings on the tiny island, having earned the chance to apply for auxiliary supplies by his exemplary hard labour. The man was one of the most obedient and diligent inmates in his surveillance.

He was also the one he hated the most.

He hated nothing more than that carefully blank, serious face that greeted him from the pier every time he arrived for the bimonthly inspection. The man would secure the boat firmly, hardly uttering a word as he led the inspector to the warehouse. They would go through the amount of waste he had collected, and not once had he failed to meet his quota. Then they would move it all to the inspection boat. It usually took the whole day, and the inspector had to travel back home during night; but no matter what, he wasn’t going to spend the night on the island.

To be honest, the young inmate gave him the shivers. He could never spot a single sign of defiance or contempt on the other’s expressionless face, and the man was never nothing short of distantly polite. He was so unlike any other inmates under his surveillance; they all were either openly or covertly reluctant, unless they were on an obvious mission to kiss his arse as much as they could manage in the short time he spent with them.

But this one was quiet and so stiff the inspector just wanted to scream at his face, if only to get a reaction—any reaction, really—out of him.

And still, despite the inmate’s resignation to his fate and excellent conduct, he was the one that made the inspector hate his job. He had hated it ever since the day he had had to deliver the solemn youth to this very island. He knew the man’s background and the crime he had been accused of, he knew it all; but none of it was under his power. It wasn’t his decision to make; he had had no option but to bring the man where they had ordered him to.

Nevertheless, it didn’t make him feel any better about it. He would never admit it to even himself, but there was a reason behind the fact that every time he came he brought something with him; be it a little something his wife had cooked up, or something else he guessed a lonely man living on a barren island might appreciate.

He would arrive, give the inmate his gift and other supplies, tour the island and check everything, transfer the trash over to the inspection boat—and get the fuck out.

He was just bracing himself for the moment that guarded face would appear before him when he spotted the most curious thing on the pier.

Instead of the familiar shape of the inmate, there were two figures standing there, ready to receive him.

The moment lasted almost absurdly long; for a while he wondered if he should fear for his life. Maybe they were going to kill him and take over his boat; throw his corpse overboard into the oily sea.

Then his boat got closer, and he could see the other person more clearly. It was a boy, someone slighter and younger than the inmate; there was no way he could be dangerous. He was standing next to the inmate, bare feet drowning in his too long trouser legs.

When the boat clanked against the pier, the boy helped the inmate to tie the ropes wordlessly. The inspector remained on the deck, observing the pair incredulously. It was quite the sight too; the boy looked more like someone he might see in the capital city, in one of the rich neighbourhoods. The last place anyone would expect to see someone like him was a miserable rock at the high seas.

When he stepped down on the pier, it was obvious to all three of them what his first words would be. It was no use trying to pretend nothing was wrong.

“Who’s that,” he asked bluntly, letting his eyes rake over the boy before focusing them on the inmate’s face. To his absolute surprise, the man looked slightly uneasy, scratching his ankle with his foot. He glanced at the boy who stayed silent, staring back at him looking every bit as solemn as the inmate usually did.

What a pair, the inspector thought. Suit each other just fine.

“Jaejoong,” the inmate answered him, and to the inspector’s great shock, he reached his arm around the boy’s shoulders to tug him closer.

“And where might he have come from,” he continued, his eyes now directly on the boy. He had turned slightly to face the inmate embracing him in a halfway hug, and the inspector could see a strange, irregular hole that had been cut to the backside of his jumper.

He made a mental note to bring the inmate more clothes the next time he came by. If he didn’t have anything better to offer his guest, his wardrobe couldn’t be in a good shape.

The inmate looked up at the sky, and the inspector half-expected him to claim the boy had dropped down form the heavens. After a moment, he glanced at the boy before uttering his answer.

“The sea,” he said simply.

“Doesn’t exactly look like the type to captain a boat,” the inspector answered, quirking his other eyebrow. The situation made no sense whatsoever, and he had no idea what he was supposed to be saying. Did the manual say something about these kinds of things happening? He was quite sure he had never heard of such an oddity.

“No, he didn’t have a boat,” the inmate answered, what the inspector considered to be, honestly.

He sighed, feeling the beginnings of a nagging headache. He had wanted nothing more than to deal with the day as quickly and effectively as normal, but instead he had been presented with a silent, strange pretty boy that appeared to have materialised out of nothingness.

“Now I am quite happy albeit admittedly flabbergasted that you have managed to find yourself such, let’s say, _fine_ company on this lonely rock, but… This makes no sense. Who is he? Why is he here? And why have you cut a hole in his jumper, for God’s sake?!”

He should have expected it by now, going by the absurdity of the day; but the reaction was something he had definitely not been waiting for. The inmate’s mouth fell open as he stared at the inspector. Then he jerked almost violently to face the boy as if to check if he was still there.

For a few times the inmate looked back and forth between them, disbelief evident on his face. The inspector saw the boy’s lips curl into a slight smile as he regarded the inmate. His attention had been fully on him for a while already as he completely ignored the presence of the inspector.

“I…” the inmate started, hesitant.

“You know what,” the inspector interrupted him. “Save it. I don’t care. I don’t know. In fact, I don’t want to know.”

He looked at the boy who was still staring up at the inmate’s face as if it was all he could see. Well, it couldn’t be too hard to woo someone so completely like that out here, the inspector reckoned. Not many rivals around after all.

“I know you probably hate me, and let me assure you the feeling is mutual,” he continued at the poor inmate who was still looking very confused. “But I do not wish bad on you. If it makes you happy to have around some mysterious pretty boy who appeared from the sea like a damned mermaid… Hell, I would have believed you if you told me he’s an angel who fell from the sky straight onto your arms. I don’t care. Keep him.”

And it was there, what he had been waiting to see all these years. The inmate’s face distorted unfamiliarly, and then he was smiling.

It wasn’t a wide smile, couldn’t have ever been called a grin by any means, but it was a smile all the same.

He couldn’t help it when his own face automatically answered the sincere emotion. The inspector’s lips curled up as well, in a way he couldn’t hide with any amount of fake throat clearing.

“It might be against the rules,” he said, “but how are they ever going to know, huh? Not a single big shot has stepped their foot on this rock since…well, since forever. And well, if you don’t tell, I won’t tell either.”

The inmate bowed quickly, his smile still intact.

“Thank you, sir,” he said quietly and squeezed the boy against his side tightly. The inspector could see his hand shaking slightly, although he clearly tried to hide it.

“I might even see if we could arrange you a little extra food,” the inspector spoke nonchalantly, feeling generous. It felt like seeing that smile on the inmate’s face had freed something inside him; he was going to try to keep it there as long as he could.

“But since they don't know you are two people here now, the quota stays at one ton,” he added quickly, sparing the boy another glance. “The little one doesn’t exactly look suited for manual labour anyway.”

“Oh sir,” the inmate burst out, “you’d be surprised.”

The inspector stared at him, not knowing how to react at all. He had never seen the man even close to this open; this easy to read. After a silent moment, the man started fidget under his heavy gaze, even blushing a little.

“Spare me,” the inspector managed to sputter out finally. “I know nothing about what you two do here when there’s only seagulls around to witness… And I’d rather it stayed like that.”

“It’s nothing like that, sir, what I meant is that Jaejoong is a great help to me everyday when I—” the inmate started blabbering quickly, only to be interrupted by the inspector again.

“I said I’d rather it stayed like that,” he smiled. The inmate hung his head, and the boy rested his own against the man’s shoulder, grinning like nothing the inspector had ever seen.

That evening, when he piloted his boat away from the island—after having been proven that the boy was actually very much capable of manual labour—his heart felt so light he thought it might soar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dear friend [](https://jaemono.livejournal.com/profile)[**jaemono**](https://jaemono.livejournal.com/) drew a beautiful, wonderful fanart for this story... Go take a look at Jaejoong the angel and Jyuni the seagull [here](http://jaemono.livejournal.com/7870.html)!!!!


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